What do you see?

Do you want to know my truth?

Do you?

From your obscure angle, looking at me.

What do you see?

Is it me?


Or is it something you’ve been told

that I’m supposed to be?

Do you see my life?

Or bits of it?

Parts that fit your scheme.


But this is me.

Yes, here!

In front of you.


This is the person

looking back at you from my

obscure angle wondering about

your truth, your pain, the

parts that make you up that

none can see.


Do you want to know my truth?

Or is this one way?

Are we the blind with the blind?

Do we want to open our eyes?


The day is new.